Rescue Me, the Dream Interludes
by dancingdragon3
Summary: These interludes are a parallel story-line to Rescue Me. Sylar and Peter are sharing dreams that they don't remember when awake.  Each dream takes place between the main stories of the series.  Slash, romance, sexual content.  Petlar.
1. Dream 1 after Gabriel

Title: Dream Interlude One

Pairing: Sylar/Peter

Genre: slash, romance

Rating: M for sexual content

Summary: Takes place after the story Gabriel. Sylar has saved Peter from Danko's men. They have fallen asleep together, and Sylar has unintentionally brought Peter into his dream state, the same way he did with Angela in _Eris Quod Sum_.

Disclaimer: The show Heroes and it's characters are the property of NBC. No rights infringement intended.

A/N: This is my interpretation of the ability that allowed Sylar and Angela to communicate when she was comatose during _Eris Quod Sum_. These interludes form a sort of secondary story-line, parallel to Rescue Me, that will be explained in the third one. In them, the boys remember the waking world, but when awake, don't remember the dreams, yet. Beta by adahleida.

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><p>Peter was standing in a darkened motel room. He turned to see Sylar - Gabriel standing next to him looking as confused as he felt. On the bed in front of them lay their bodies, still curled together.<p>

"Are we... dead?" Sylar asked in a hushed voice.

Automatically Peter moved to check vitals. After a moment's examination he straightened back up.

"They're warm, breathing, steady heartbeats, pupils normal... whatever else you and I might be, those bodies are definitely alive. Unless we really are dead and this is purgatory."

Sylar scoffed. "Astral projection then?"

Peter appeared thoughtful. The theory definitely intrigued him. He closed his eyes to try something.

Sylar thought he looked constipated. "Peter, what are you doing?"

"Trying to will myself to Paris. What? It's what people in astral projection books are always doing."

Sylar rolled his eyes. _Why am I even surprised?_ he mused. _But, he might have an idea. _He stretched out his hand, but nothing happened. He shook the other one. Still nothing. He tried shaking out both hands. Nothing.

"Now what the hell are _you_ trying to do?"

"Use my powers. What does it look like?" Sylar said defensively.

"Uh, well, it looks like your powers are still in that body over there." Peter responded, enjoying this unusual circumstance. Being equally powerless was almost like having the upper hand. And he had a feeling that a powerless Sylar would be an amusing Sylar.

"Then what the hell are we?"

"Maybe we're just dreaming."

"The same dream? Of watching ourselves sleep?" The killer was getting more frustrated by the moment. "What kind of stupid dream is that?"

"Maybe we're lucid dreaming. You know where you're in control of the action." Peter closed his eyes again, without looking constipated this time, and when he opened them, he was wearing sweat pants instead of Gabriel's boxers.

"Hey, check it out, I was right! Lucid dreaming." Peter indicated his pants with satisfaction.

"And you changed your clothes? See Peter, this is why you could never control all those powers, you have absolutely no idea what to do with them once you have them." _I refuse to beleive he figured this out before I did._

"And I suppose hunting and killing is a much more productive use of them?" Peter challenged, stepping into the taller man's space.

"At least I have an objective. I'm not just floating around all willy nilly." He waved an arm around for emphasis.

"You realize that I am never going to be able to properly fear you now that I've heard you use the phrase 'willy nilly'?" Peter smiled up at his strange companion.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Sylar looked off to the side. "Yeah, well, maybe I don't want you to fear me anymore. "

Feeling bold, and maybe even a bit little reckless given the situation, the younger man let his gaze turn playful. "How _do_ you want me to feel about you?" At the other man's suddenly haunted look, he moved even closer, reaching out. "Hey, don't get shy on me now, killer. We're dreaming remember? Anything goes here."

Sylar glanced at the hand on his arm before focusing his stare on the men laying on the bed. His... body's arm was still around Peter's waist, face pressed into the smaller man's hair. They looked... good together. Comfortable, like they fit.

"Anything goes, huh?"

"Well, within reason. Why? What did you have in mind?"

"Do you think we, they, whatever, will remember this when we wake up?"

Peter too turned to regard the sleeping men. He remembered how good it felt, lying there like that with Gabriel's arms around him. His warm, muscular arms.

"It's doubtful. It looks like we just fell asleep. We haven't moved around yet. We're probably only in our first or second REM stage. If we sleep for as long as we both probably need to, we'll have at least a couple more before we wake up. Usually you only remember the last dream you have, and sometimes then only then if you wake up during it."

Peter turned to the handsome man beside him, taking in dark features and rough stubble. Part of him was still protesting that this was new levels of crazy. Another look at Gabriel's black wife beater stretched across his broad hairy chest had Peter's libido coming up with new justifications. He was willing to follow a little ways more, see if this dream led somewhere interesting...

"So what did you want to do that you also don't want to remember in the morning, or rather, don't want me to remember?" _Please, please, don't let it be some weird confession, like that he wants to fuck Claire or, even worse, my mom. _

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Sylar spared a glance at the other, empty bed before facing Peter. _It's his eyes. They are so... _

For the first time that night, Sylar felt like he was dreaming as he allowed the fingers of one hand to trail lightly up Peter's bare arm before giving in, and slowly, very slowly, moving just the tips across the younger man's face, through the still-too-short hair, curving around his ear and back down to settle along the jaw line, until finally he had that warm work of art cupped securely in his palm. He stroked his thumb over Peter's perfectly smooth, pale skin. Followed the curve of the impossibly high cheek bone, his zygomatic arch.

The killer smiled. Such a dramatic name for something so delicate, so functionless. Just there for beauty's sake. Realizing that he had probably been zoned out for a good minute, Sylar looked back up to see Peter's reaction.

Peter was blown away. Absolutely blown away and completely turned on. Gabriel's soft touch. His obvious pleasure at touching such an innocent part of himself. Like he'd been wanting to since forever. The nervous blinking. If Peter didn't know any better...

_There is no way, absolutely no way in any time or place that this insanely powerful man, who looks good even as he's cutting your head open, is a... virgin. Is there? _

Holding his gaze steady and moving as slowly as Sylar had, he reached up and gripped the back of the taller man's neck, bringing his mouth close enough to kiss. Their lips met softly. Small, brief, repeated touches, eyes still open, testing, asking. They felt so good. Addictive.

Peter's eyes drifted closed as he felt Gabriel's large hand move down his throat, fingers so long they curled more than halfway around it. Gabriel's grip was firm but not choking, his thumb still softly stroking up and down, as soft as the kisses they were sharing. It was maddening. The possessive hold made him feel safe, wanted. It made his dick throb.

Then their lips parted. Mouths opened. Tongues met, and the kiss changed. From one second to the next, it was like being swept into a hurricane. Like falling, pulling each other off that school roof all over again. It was just as scary, as exhilarating. Just as life changing. And just like that night in Texas, it felt like destiny.

The next time Peter came up for air, they had moved to his bed, moans coming from them both. Sylar was on top, cradled between his thighs, licking and biting at his neck. They had lost their shirts, but their loose pants were not proving a hindrance to the grinding of their hard cocks.

It had been years since he had been with another man and Peter had forgotten how overwhelming it could be. Gabriel was heavy on top of him, around him, chest hair scratching and sensitizing his nipples. One arm was at his side holding onto his shoulder, while the other was somehow underneath him and he could feel Gabriel's hand reach up to wrap around the back of his neck. Intoxicating.

As Sylar held Peter's head still to receive the deep thrusts of his tongue, matching the slow, hard thrusts of his body, the younger man was shaken inside.

_This is too much_, Peter thought. A comfort fuck, alone and on the run was one thing, but this... he was on fire and his heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest and consume them both.

"Sylar, wait." He managed to put some space between them.

"Are you... do you want to stop?" Dark, anxious eyes searched Peter's.

"No! No, I just need a breath. I'm a little over excited." He stroked up Sylar's chest and neck to his face. Tickled his finger tips on the stubble. He ran his hands through the thick, black hair, scratching at the scalp and smiling as this dangerous and deadly man turned to putty in his hands.

Sylar's eyes closed as his head moved into Peter's petting like a cat demanding more.

"It's been a long time, for me, and this...is crazy. How good you're making me feel." Peter, his voice husky already, looked over the muscular curves of shoulder and chest, hands following. He raked his fingers through the fur pelt this time. "It's crazy how sexy you are."

After leaning down to give another deep kiss, Sylar pulled back to rub his forehead against Peter's. He was feeling pretty overwhelmed himself. Having so many questions answered at once. He realized that he had wanted to be in this position for a long time now. And although he had always been pretty sure of what Peter's touches, albeit usually violent, told him... that he was willing to act on those feelings... Sylar hadn't been sure of that at all.

He had thought his first time with a man would be awkward, not this amazing thing. It was ridiculous really, and completely illogical how arousing rubbing his cock against another's was. They weren't even completely naked yet. And the set of balls nudging against his own? Who could know that would feel good?

And even though Peter was slim, his soft curves nearly hairless, there was no mistaking him for a woman. His small hands and feminine features just made him seem sexy and exotic. Fragile, breakable. But Sylar didn't feel like breaking, and he was good with fragile things. He knew how to be delicate, precise. He wanted this to be good for Peter. Didn't want to fuck it up because of impatience, inexperience or his current lack of intuitive aptitude.

He was so close to letting go completely, but he forced himself to slow down. Sylar was determined to make the most of this dream, even if it meant being honest in a way he normally wouldn't have to be.

"I should probably mention that I've never done this before, with a man I mean. Not that I'm an idiot or anything. I know how things... fit together so to speak. What I want, what I don't _know_, is what you want. How you want things to... us to fit together."

Peter's face broke into an enormous grin. _Sylar admitting he doesn't know something and putting the ball in my court? Dream, check. Me, about to throw caution to the wind and take complete advantage, with possibly, no scratch that, definitely horrendous consequences? Check, and double check._ Giving a passionate kiss of his own, Peter ground his hips into Sylar's, opening his legs to make room for the answering thrust.

"Actually, this is working just fine for me." Peter, again, bracing his feet on the bed, made another slinky move, thrusting up against the hard pelvis above him, grabbing two handfuls of ass, and earning a moan from their owner. Sylar lay his head on Peter's shoulder and resumed working his erection against the other man's. Peter took advantage of the opportunity to lick the shell of his ear, dipping his tongue inside before taking the lobe between his teeth and sucking.

"The way you kiss is seriously doing my head in," he whispered. "I feel like I could come any second now. And for a first time, between men, frottage is always a good choice." Concentrating, Peter willed their pants away, gasping as their sexes touched, naked, for the first time. He thought up another helpful little element.

"Oh, _Peter_."

Sylar's movements sped up, strong determined stokes aided by whatever wonderful thing Peter had just done. The slender legs holding him tight, he knew. The nails digging into his back, also familiar. But he had expected something rougher, dirtier, involving pain, domination, and most likely blood. He hadn't anticipated such intense pleasure. Never would have imagined it could be brought by such simple actions. He could feel every nerve in his body singing, every cell filled with light.

His lips found Peter's again. He loved using his tongue to fuck the other man's smaller mouth. It was so soft and wet. Everything they were doing just felt so fucking good. This was so much better than Sylar had ever imagined. So much better than anything he had ever done. This was passion. This was real.

Sylar broke the kiss, gasping, losing control and suddenly terrified, praying Peter's name over and over again as his core melted and white hot pleasure surged through him.

Peter watched, entranced, as Gabriel came apart above him, chanting his name and grinding them together relentlessly. His own climax triggered by the sight and feel of the other man's hot ejaculate shooting against his stomach, their cocks pulsing together. Peter clung to the man giving him this, his ragged moans joining in with the sound of his name.


	2. Dream 2 after Peter

Title: Dream Interlude Two

Summary: Takes place after the story Peter. After a hard day's training Sylar has brought Peter into his dream again. They do not remember any previous ones with each other.

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><p>"What's going on?" Peter asked, finding himself standing in their motel room. He looked in surprise at the men sleeping on the beds in front of them.<p>

"We're dreaming," Sylar said, coming to stand beside him. "This is a new power I've got. Or an old one. I'm not really sure yet. But I know I've done this with Luke a couple times, and I thought..." Sylar's voice trailed off.

"Oh!" Peter absently reached out to touch Sylar's arm. "So this is how you knew Luke was in trouble? You really did talk to him in a dream."

"Apparently."

"Okay, so now what? I don't exactly have any pressing information to give you. So what are we doing here?" He looked up, his hand still holding onto Sylar's wrist.

The older man shook his head. "Beats me. I'm still figuring this one out."

"Isn't that a little slow for you?" Peter taunted the man who had made his day long and painful.

"Hey, like I said, I'm not sure what this power is or where it even came from," Sylar said in his defense as he pulled away and turned one of the chairs at the table around to sit on it backwards.

"Alright, alright. Take it easy, killer." He held his hands up. "I didn't mean to insult you."

"Like you could do that."

"I think I already did that, hair gel."

"Do you really wanna start that again, emo bangs?"

"Emo bangs? I'm sorry, did you just say 'emo'?" Peter started chuckling. "You got that word from Luke didn't you?"

"What? I can't be hip?"

Peter eyes bulged as he began laughing so hard that it turned into a cough. "Not using words like hip!" he exclaimed, sitting down and putting his head on the table. He see-sawed between chortling and choking up at the thirtysomething, socially awkward, serial killer trying to sound cool.

Sylar frowned and started to count. At five his frown deepened. At ten he threw a stack of napkins at the overly amused man. They burst into a flurry of 30% post-consumer as they hit Peter's head. "Stop laughing at me," he commanded.

"Oh my god. Ha ha. If you think throwing paper products at me like a fifteen year old girl is going to make this less funny, you're crazier than I thought. Shouldn't you be ripping me a new one by now?" Peter asked, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Our powers don't work here, smart ass. And believe me, if they did you would be incinerated by now."

"Really? You'd incinerate me?" Peter leaned back in his chair and gave his partner a skeptical look.

"In a second." Sylar glanced up from where he was picking up the napkins.

Peter snorted and answered Sylar's scowl with a knowing grin.

"So where'd you learn how to teach like that?" Peter asked a couple minutes later as he watched Gabriel tuck the napkins back into a neat stack.

"Nowhere. Just made sense. Why?"

"You're good. A hell of a lot better than the last guy who tried to teach me how to use my powers. He thought throwing me off a building would be a good way to get me to fly."

It was Sylar's turn to laugh. "Sink or swim, eh?"

Peter just raised an eyebrow in response.

"So who was this man after my own heart?"

"This English guy named Claude."

"Claude Rains? The invisible man?"

"Yeah, how do you know him?"

"I uh... read about him in a couple of Primatech files."

"Did a little snooping did you?"

"I was trying to find out who my real parents were. But the file on record was a fake."

"How do you know?"

"Because it had me listed as Gabriel Petrelli, with 'you know who' as my birth parents."

"Oh," Peter shuddered. "No offense, but that just sounds so wrong."

"Gee, thanks."

"Oh, come on. You can't tell me the idea of us being brothers didn't freak you out."

Sylar wasn't about to admit that the idea of having that kind of connection with someone had in fact been tremendously appealing. He had felt drawn to Peter for years. And he had been more than willing to accept a strong but hidden familial tie as the explanation for that feeling, then. Now? He was getting tired of lying to himself. About who he was. What he was. What he wanted.

"So... was everything else in the file fake?"

"I don't know. The last several years were accurate enough, but obviously the early childhood stuff was a fabrication. Why?"

"Just curious." Peter looked off to the side.

_I hate not having my abilities_, Sylar thought. Without them he felt paranoid and off balance. He suspected Peter was hiding something but without his lie detector he couldn't be absolutely sure. He stared at Peter wondering what he was thinking.

"I uh, ahem, had fun today," Peter offered after a very long and awkward pause.

Sylar frowned, caught off guard by the comment. "Um... that's... good." His response came out sounding more like a question.

"You haven't had many friends have you, Gabriel?"

"What? Why would you ask me that?"

"Because I'm curious. Because I want to get to know you better. Because we're having the most boring dream ever together and it seemed like a good time to ask?

"Seeing you with Luke has been a real eye opener. It couldn't be the first time you've had a friend and yet so much of this seems brand new to you. Like getting compliments. You're full of inconsistencies. One day you're an antisocial mass murderer and the next you're some kind of mentor, working well with others.

"I expected you to be, I don't know, even more emotionally stunted or randomly psychotic or something."

"You have such a way with words, Peter. I wasn't hatched out of some pod you know. Or home-schooled." There was no way in hell Sylar was going to tell Peter that his best and only friend had always been his mother. He could see the Norman Bates comparison coming from a mile away.

After another minute's thought Peter tried again. "What I mean... it's been a nice surprise. How well we can get along. I like you better this way." Peter's head lowered a little as he looked up at Sylar with wide eyes and a soft smile.

Time stopped for Sylar as he sat stunned in his chair. _Did he just say that he likes me?_

"This is where you say thank you, and that you like you better this way too," Peter said in a stage whisper.

"Well, maybe I'm not sure yet." Sylar recovered quickly. "I enjoy the hunt and kill so much you know. And the spilled blood is always so pretty." He finished his audacious statement with a wink.

"God, you are such a dick. If I hadn't had that glimpse of future-you, I never would have believed you could be such a normal, everyday, suburban family man.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"You don't fool me, Sylar. Before, I called you a weapon. I was wrong. You really are much more than that. You're a good teacher. A good partner. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'd like to see if you can be a good friend too. If we can be friends."

Sylar was glad he couldn't blush as he felt his cheeks heat up. His heart was already pounding in his chest at Peter's words. His stomach fluttered.

"I'm glad you are finally learning to appreciate me," he said in a gravel filled tone.

_I appreciate that thing you do with your voice_, Peter thought, feeling the words in his gut. Sylar had the kind of voice he had heard his mother describe as bitter sweet chocolate. But that was too poetic for Peter. The way Sylar spoke was dark and dangerous and it turned him on.

He looked over at their bodies spooning on the bed. From this angle, it really didn't look that innocent, he noticed.

_I mean come on, his face is _buried_ in my hair. _

Peter shifted in his seat, again. It felt like it had been a year since he had had sex. He looked over at his handsome partner, thinking about that afternoon's training. What had seemed to be a near miss against that tree. And then there was all that hand holding. Long moments of silent eye contact.

_Could he be interested but shy?_ _Another contradiction?_ "Are we gonna remember this tomorrow?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe. Remembering I even have this power while I'm awake seems to be iffy at this point," Sylar replied. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

"Don't kid a kidder, hero. What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

_Oh fuck it_, Peter thought. _If that's not flirting then I am seriously out of practice_. Mind made up, Peter stood and stepped in front of Sylar's chair. "Stand up."

"Why?"

"After all the orders you gave me today, you can follow one of mine without question. Stand up."

Sylar shrugged and moved to stand in front of Peter. Who then, using a jujitsu leg sweep Nathan had taught him, brought the taller man down to the floor, straddled him, and pinned his shoulders to the carpet.

"Uh, what's going on here, Peter?" Sylar asked in a deceptively calm voice. He wasn't sure yet whether to laugh or fight back.

_What are you doing here, Pete?_ he asked himself. _Come on. You've tackled the man to the ground. What comes next?_ He looked down at the deliciously dark man underneath him, thinking of the possibilities.

Sylar was content to wait for the moment and see which way the impetuous young man was going to go.

Peter chose down. He slithered down Gabriel's body, taking his sleep pants with him and massaging his hands back up the man's bare legs to his crotch.

"Peter? What the fuck?"

Peter caught Gabriel's hands in his own, holding them down beside his body and bent over.

He nuzzled the killer's balls and licked around his penis.

"Jesus Christ, Peter!" Sylar banged his head back down to the floor as Peter's tongue began exploring the shaft of his growing erection.

"Hmmmm?" Peter questioned innocently, using small licks to bring his captive to full attention, and then pausing to take a deep inhale of his scent. This had been a very good idea.

"If I let your hands go will you be good?" Peter asked, letting his breath tickle the sensitive skin of Gabriel's cock head, before running his tongue over it too.

"What... Jesus, what constitutes good in this circumstance?"

"Laying still, and giving occasional words of praise would be nice."

"Oh, okay. Yes, I can be good."

Peter chuckled as he let Gabriel's hands go. He immediately began firmly stroking his hard cock in one hand and fondling his balls with the other. He didn't want to risk waking up before finishing so he was through teasing.

Peter took one last long look at the man splayed out before him. Naked, furry chest heaving. Hands fisted at his sides, head rolling back and forth against the thin carpet... Gabriel was already the perfect picture of sexual frustration.

Maybe he could tease a bit more. Peter waited. For about two seconds.

Gabriel opened his eyes. "Peter?"

"Just making sure I had your full attention." Peter grinned evilly before bending down to lick long stripes up and down Gabriel's cock, getting it nice and wet, licking his own lips before sucking it into his mouth. He got half way down on his first pass, paused to lick his way back to the tip, and then went back down. After a little more tongue-to-head action he settled into a nice slow in and out suck with a tongue swirl combination.

"Oh my god, Peter, that's... Fuck that's good. Oh that's sooo _good._" Sylar didn't care if he was making sense. Or if he sounded desperate. He was getting blown to within an inch of his life by Peter "fuck I am so glad he's not my brother" Petrelli.

_Jesus, his mouth._ It was so... and now it was wrapped, literally wrapped around his cock. And his tongue was, it was... it was probably a sin. Fuck, he couldn't believe this was happening. He was in Peter's mouth. He was fucking Peter's mouth. Oh fuck, oh yes, he was...

_Oh god, oh please, I'm... I'm going to... _

"Sylar wake up, man wake up..."

_No, you've got to be kidding me!_

"Sylar, wake up!"

_Nooo, no, not yet,_ Sylar thought as he opened his eyes to take one last look at Peter sucking his dick, and saw Luke's face in front of his instead.

"The fucking motel had better be on fire, Luke," Sylar hissed in a low, deadly serious voice. He loosened his choke hold enough to allow the boy to respond.

Peter, with his back turned to the two men, opened his eyes and licked his lips.

"It's a message from Rebel. We have to go after Angela. Nathan's been exposed by Danko," Luke whispered.

"Goddammit." Sylar took the phone from the trembling boy's hand and turned to wake up Peter, who had just closed his eyes again, feigning sleep.


	3. Dream 3 part 1, after Angela

Title: Rescue Me, Dream Interlude 3, part 1/2

Author: dancingdragon3

Pairing: Peter/Sylar

Rating: NC-17

Genre: smut

Length: 3000 words

Summary: After the stress of meeting up with Peter's family at Coyote Sands, Sylar arranges a private dream rendezvous for them.

Disclaimer: The show Heroes and it's characters are the property of NBC and Tim Kring. No rights infringement intended.

Beta by adahleida

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><p>The desert was beautiful in the morning. The sun had cleared the horizon, throwing brilliant pink and yellow highlights across wispy clouds in every direction. Even the ground had a golden glow, unlike its usual barren brown. The wind ruffled the hair at Peter's temple as he turned in place admiring the view. The mountains formed a painted iron and sulpher ring around the desert, reflecting the sun's light and matching its hue.<p>

Hearing a cry, Peter looked up to see an eagle flying high above. He watched as it soared and circled, both thrilled and filled with envy by its flight.

"Hello Peter."

The low voice tickled Peter's ear, causing a shiver. He turned, expecting his nemesis to be right behind him, but the man was standing several feet away, and he looked... different. He seemed to be standing taller, straighter, yet more relaxed at the same time. Peter catalogued the differences as he walked over to him.

Sylar was clean shaven and his hair was in perfect place, swept back from his forehead. He was wearing a black dress shirt neatly tucked into equally dressy black pants. Instead of military issue boots, he was wearing loafers.

Peter smirked. They looked like something his mother would pick out as a Christmas present for the "wealthy, eligible, young gay man in your family".

As he got closer, Peter could see a necklace around the other man's neck. When he was near enough, he reached up and moved the collar of Sylar's shirt aside to get a better look. The chain was gold as was the pendant nestled in the hollow of the taller man's throat. It was that symbol that Rene wore, the one from his father's law firm, and from Adam's - Hiro's sword.

Peter was starting to get a little confused when he noticed something that solidified the emotion. Sylar's thick straight hair wasn't just swept back from his face, it was long and pulled into a ponytail in back.

The man in question, still standing calm and silent as you please with his hands in his pockets, merely raised an eyebrow at Peter's expression.

Leaving the hair alone for the moment, Peter ran his hand over a strong shoulder instead, fingering the cloth that was softer than any he'd ever felt. The darkness of it seemed to soak up all the surrounding light, like a black hole. His hand drifted down a firm chest muscle encased in the midnight silk. He thought that if he pressed just right, the darkness might soak up his hand too...

Peter blinked, feeling like he had just woken up. He stepped back, trying to get his bearings.

Sylar watched him with a small smile hovering near his mouth.

"This is a dream, right? Your dream?" Peter finally asked.

Sylar nodded, expression now bordering on smug.

"And you changed your clothes?" Peter was missing something. Something about changing clothes... And just like that he remembered - everything.

Sylar's smile became full blown as he watched recognition spread across Peter's face.

"Oh. My. God. We..." Peter blinked several times. "That first night in Pennsylvania, and... before that even... we've been... we've been... oh my _god_."

Peter closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands as the memories assaulted him. So many memories of the two of them... sharing dreams... fighting... _fucking_. Over and over again, for years, each time like it was the first.

"You are unbelievable!" Peter yelled, shoving Sylar who was chuckling now while reaching out to him.

"Hey hey! I am just an innocent bystander here." Sylar protested, holding his hands in the air.

"Innocent my ass! We've been sharing dreams and... and other things for years! How is that not your fault?"

"Well, in my defense I think the first time was you." Sylar put his hands back into his pants pockets, the smug grin worming its way back onto his face.

"_How_ do you figure that?"

"One, we were in your cell, not mine. Two, I was drugged while you were merely sleeping. Three, I was injured and you were presumably all healed. Four, back then you seemed to spontaneously use your most recently acquired power..."

"You know what, it doesn't matter. What does is that we've been having sex and doing other unspeakable things for years, unknowingly in our sleep."

"Apparently." Sylar shrugged.

"Is that all you have to say?" Peter was infuriated by Sylar's blase attitude.

"Babe, I just found out that I have forgotten the first 6 years of my life including yet another set of parents and sharing dreams with your mother. This is just par for the course at this point. Oh, and Peter," Sylar stepped closer and leaned in.

Peter braced himself.

"Without your memories, you are so nasty."

Peter met Sylar's wicked grin with a shake of his head and a sigh.

"We are not talking about any of that any time soon," he said with a firm look. Some of their dreams he wasn't ready to re-live in detail just yet, if ever. Especially the ones from when he was in Ireland. Which was also more proof that he was just as guilty of instigating this as Sylar was, he realized, remembering that the other man was sans abilities at the time.

It would seem that their subconscious minds had been very busy with one another for a while now. What that said about them, given what they were doing in real life was something else Peter didn't want to examine just yet. Instead, he turned his attention to the cabins in the distance. Upon closer inspection he realized that they looked more like a village than a run down camp. There were several two and even three story buildings. He saw a few were made of brick. There was a huge greenhouse, and... _Is__that__a...?_

"Why the hell is there a Ferris wheel in Coyote Sands?" Peter asked wearily.

"I do not know," Sylar said, shaking his head. "I did not put that there."

"Well, while we're playing 'what doesn't belong in this picture', what's with the necklace?" Peter touched it again.

A puzzled expression appeared on Sylar's face as he groped blindly at his neck.

"A what? I didn't... I don't wear jewelry." He twisted his head this way and that, but the chain was too short for him to see the pendant. He traced his fingers over it. "I can't see. What is it, a snake?"

"No, it's a..." Peter couldn't remember what it was called. He thought Hiro or maybe his mom had told him once but... Suddenly an idea came to him.

"You know what I think might be happening here," he said, gesturing to the camp. "I think Isaac's ability, or my mom's is blending with this one somehow. I think we're getting glimpses of the future."

Sylar frowned and dropped the necklace. "You know what? I don't care." He grabbed Peter in his arms and lowered his mouth to take the other man's in a scorching kiss. One hand came up to hold Peter's head as Sylar worked his mouth open, his tongue delving in and out of the softness.

"Right now," Sylar continued when he let Peter up for air, "I am only interested in the present where I have decided that it's time for a vacation."

"A vacation?" Peter asked breathlessly.

"Yes, and the only question I need answered from you is 'beach or mountain'?"

It took Peter a moment to follow his lover's intention but only another for him to come up with his answer. He grinned slyly.

"River, waterfall, rainforest," was the succinct and contrary reply.

Sylar snorted and closed his eyes.

After another moment, the scenery rippled around them, blurring, then clearing and focusing again until they were standing beside a naturally formed pool at the base of what had to be a fifty foot waterfall. Beyond them the pool became a gently moving river. Peter could see it flowing over rocks farther down.

"Gabriel, this is... _breathtaking_," he said with awe and a little disbelief. Leaving their embrace, he turned around to take it all in.

On either side of the narrow river was a grassy clearing that gave way to impossibly tall, moss-covered trees. Looking into the jungle all he could see was the green of tropical foliage blooming with brightly coloured flowers. Near them a steep rock covered path wound up the cliff forming the waterfall. The sky above was bright blue and the air was filled with birdsong and the sound of rushing water.

Peter had never seen anything like it. It looked real, but... more than real, better than real. Perfect, and wild. He marveled that such a picture of life could be made by someone that gloried in death.

"What can I say? I like to rise to a challenge," Sylar said.

"Uh uh." Peter, suspicious, glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "Or is this an actual place you remember from when you escaped the Mexican facility?"

"I knew it. You little liar!" Sylar grabbed him again. "You did read my file, didn't you?"

"What do you think?" It was Peter's turn to look smug.

"I think you're a menace. And no, this is not a place I've seen before, asshole. I do have an imagination, you know." He nuzzled into the long neck covered in the softest white skin, nipping at it lightly with his teeth.

"I don't think you truly appreciate all my talents, Peter," Sylar murmured. "Now how do you think that makes me feel?"

"Hmmm, itchy?" Peter responded in an innocent tone, running his hands down to Sylar's ass and squeezing.

Sylar pulled back with a look of astonishment. Their eyes met and silent exchanges of audacity, humour, and revenge were made. Then Sylar smiled, glanced behind Peter's back, and pushed him hard, right off his feet.

"Hey!" Peter flung his arms out but his panic was short-lived as he landed on something soft. A mattress, covered in white silk. He was immediately pounced upon.

"Did you think I would take you on the ground?" Sylar fitted one leg between Peter's and re-attached his mouth to the smaller man's neck.

"I never know what to expect from you." Peter moaned, pleasantly surprised by the turn of events. He wrapped his arms and legs around the big gangly body on top of him.

"Then how about this?" Sylar asked, flipping them over. "Ride me?"

Until then, Peter had honestly not noticed that they were naked. The smile that crossed his face was as wicked as any that the killer had ever worn. _I __bet__ he__ still__ doesn't__ realize __he's__ wearing__ a __ponytail_, he thought.

Deciding to keep that tidbit of information secret for now, Peter thought of another way to goad his lover. Kneeling over and distracting him with a kiss, Peter pushed the supine man's hands up the bed for the vines he had imagined to imprison his wrists. Similar ones grew out of the ground near the foot of the iron sleigh bed's frame to encircle the killer's ankles as well.

"Peter, do I look like someone who enjoys being tied down?" Sylar asked in a bored tone.

He pulled surreptitiously against the smooth vines around his wrists. They slithered and pulled back, binding his hands tighter together. The ones around his ankles had more give, but not enough for him to bend his knees. He could only shift his legs a little, as they lay about a foot apart.

"Not really, but I sure do like seeing you this way." Peter began fingering his own cock from where he sat astride the larger man.

"You are one kinky son of a bitch, Peter Petrelli."

"And you love it."

"Yes, I do. So come on. I assume this is where you torture me until I'm begging to come right?"

"That was the idea."

"Then get on with it before I change my mind about this little scene of yours," Sylar demanded.

Peter grinned and held up a bottle of lube before turning around to give Sylar a good view of him prepping himself.

He didn't need any abilities to tell him the precise moment that the killer's eyes bulged out. He knew Sylar had a thing about his ass, so he took his time sliding his fingers in and out, slowly loosening the muscle as he flexed and stretched his back to put it all on display.

Peter ended up only using two fingers to get ready. He wanted to be nice and tight. He planned to really draw this out. He wanted to feel every inch of Sylar's dick the first time it went in, and for him to feel every inch of Peter in return.

A short while later, they did.

Sylar felt so good inside him. His ass burned where the shaft entered his body but deep inside, tingles and pulses of liquid pleasure were being created where the big cock head massaged against his prostate.

Peter stroked himself, gripping and working his dick. He had never been harder. He leaned further back and rotated his hips in a few slow semi-circles, each one aimed at giving him the most sensation. His whole body was tingling now, even his toes. He pinched one of his own nipples, once and then again harder. It felt so good he let go of his erection and abused both nipples until they were red and swollen.

Peter threw his head back and moaned. He could feel his dick throbbing, bouncing up and down in time with his heart beat. He rotated his hips again, nudging suddenly and violently against Sylar's erection, so hard and hot inside him. Like iron. Like iron and fire and silk and black and death and life all inside him. Killing him, and making him feel like living and coming all at the same time.

"Christ, Peter. _Jesus_."

Sylar was on fire with denied passion. Peter was enacting a fucking masturbation porno on top of him and all he could do was watch and squirm in pain, his dick encased in Peter's tight, tight ass, but not. moving. enough. at. all.

"Fuck! Peter, move faster, goddamit! And with more consistency! There is someone dying underneath you here. Baby, please have some mercy on me." Sylar yanked in frustration against the apparently unbreakable, vegetable ropes around his arms.

_Stupid__ empathic __mimicry_, Sylar thought.

"Did you just call me 'baby'?" Peter stopped his self-pleasuring and looked down at his lover in amusement.

"I hate you, but if it will get you to fucking stop torturing me and move or touch me or something, I'll call you whatever the hell you fucking want. Please baby, I give. You win, just please do something!" Sylar demanded, his tone going from angry to pleading.

"Hmmm, I like that." Peter leaned down and licked sloppily at Sylar's ear. "Come on. Talk dirty to me, killer. Tell me how hot you are for me." He bit at the lobe as he clenched around the hard shaft inside him.

"Christ, Peter! Urrrgggghhh. Baby, oooh, oh god, I swear... oh I feel like I'm on fire. I want to come inside you so bad... I think I'm gonna die from it. You..." Sylar closed his eyes and swallowed, trying to focus on being articulate.

"God you, you are so sexy," he continued in a lust and pain filled approximation of his gravel tone.

"I feel like you've scarred my retinas with your body. Your eyes. Your... perfect skin. It's so smooth, so soft. It's so soft inside you." He pulsed his hips as much as his living bonds would allow.

"You make me so hard I want to fuck you forever. Peter..." His voice was a whisper now, filled with longing. He pulled reflexively against his bindings.

"Be inside you forever. Your ass is so tight around me, holding me... holding me so tight, it's like it's molded itself to my cock. Like it was made for me. What?" Sylar had opened his eyes to find Peter staring down at him with a look of incredulity.

"That was _fucking__ hot_," Peter said, shaking his head. "Jesus babe, I said talk dirty to me not compose a Shakespearean sonnet. You have seriously hidden depths." He leaned back and the vines holding Sylar's arms and legs disappeared.

"So fuck me already," Peter finished with a cheeky smile.

Sylar's hips pistoned up before Peter had completed his order. Hands were at his waist a second later. Peter was forcibly reminded of Sylar's height and strength advantage when he found himself being held up in place as Sylar moved into him at a vicious pace, hitting rock bottom with every powerful thrust. Peter braced his hands on Sylar's chest and spread his legs as wide as he could.

The burning was more intense now, and Peter welcomed it. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted to feel it. Loved that he could reduce such an obsessively controlling man to this. Loved that he was the only one to truly know this side of him.

Sylar fucked like an animal and Peter reveled in it. It was wild and crazy, but it made him feel so... free. He had never felt such freedom. Never been so honest. He was playing with fire and he knew it. But he had to. He had to. His name was being chanted now.

_Close,__so __close._

God, to feel this passion, hear his name as a prayer, to get burned by this kind of fire...

And then it exploded inside him, overtaking his body in waves tinged with pleasure and pain. All Peter could do was hold on as the world spun out of focus.


	4. Dream 3 part 2, after Angela

Title: Rescue Me, Dream Interlude 3, part 2/2

Length: 3500 words

Summary: This is the conclusion to the boy's vacation together. They're in Coyote Sands, dreaming together.

Beta by adahleida

* * *

><p>When Sylar woke up, he felt like he had been run over by a truck. He tried raising off the bed but his arms were shaky, and he ended up falling back to his stomach after gaining only a couple of inches.<p>

_Jesus. I must have passed out right on top of him. How romantic. _

He managed to roll over onto his back, brushing and spitting long strands of hair out of his mouth. His ponytail had come undone. Sylar couldn't believe Peter never mentioned it.

Looking up at the sky, he saw that his irksome partner had been playing, and playing brilliantly. It was now nighttime and there were many more stars twinkling overhead than was normal. The Milky Way flowed in line with the river like a celestial mirror, passing over the waterfall and curving off the edge of the horizon.

There was a second moon as well, so close to the earth that it took up a third of the sky. Both were full and glowing yellow. The smile that stretched across Sylar's face as he took in the amazing display was rare for the killer: completely, almost innocently honest in its pleasure. He loved it when Peter impressed him.

Thanks to all the moon and starlight, Sylar easily located Peter in the pool leaning back against the bank. Sylar sat down next to him on what seemed to be a rock ledge, and was surprised to feel jets of water massaging his legs and back. This was... nice. He raised his eyebrows at the man who kept on surprising him.

"You said we were on vacation," the younger man said from his relaxed position.

"So this is really what a hot tub feels like?" Sylar asked after a moment.

"Yep. Well, a really expensive one. I gotta tell you, I am loving this new ability," Peter went on. "I mean, just think of the psychological applications, not to mention the fun ones."

"You mean like torturing somebody?" Sylar asked.

"Seriously, that's really the first thing you thought of?" Peter was more disappointed than surprised.

"No dumb ass. The 'fun applications'," here Sylar added air quotes, "were the first thing I thought of."

"Oh, right. Well that's even more stereotypical."

"Must I remind you that though I may be the most powerful man on earth, I am still just a man."

"And so humble. Still though, you've got to admit you're not your typical guy, Sylar. If you were and sex was always the first thing you thought about then you wouldn't have been so inex..." Peter came to a screeching halt, horrified by what he had been about to let fly out of his mouth.

Sylar's head swiveled towards Peter as if on a turntable.

"I mean," Peter backtracked, trying to salvage their playful mood, "it's normal to think about sex more often once you're..."

_Oh __my __god,__stop __talking_, Peter thought to himself as the ferocity of Sylar's gaze turned up a notch. _Just __turn __around__ and__ shut __up.__Just__ look __away __and __shut__ the __fuck __up._

"Peter, I believe there are some topics of, shall we say out loud conversation, considered impolite in masculine company?"

"You're right. Sorry. Old habits, ya know? Besides being a nurse, I used to be a psych major."

"_You_ wanted to be a _shrink_?"

"Psychologist. And let me guess, you have a problem with therapists?"

"On the contrary, I think I could make a psychiatrist's career, with me as a case study. I'm just surprised someone with as many issues as you have thought you could help someone else with theirs."

Peter supposed he deserved that.

* * *

><p>"Penny for your thoughts," Peter said after awhile.<p>

"I was thinking about the first time I killed you," Sylar said, leaning his head back.

"You're so romantic," Peter said, moving to swim around the pool in front of Sylar.

"Actually, I think this could be romantic. I was thinking about after we fell from the school roof. When I came to that's when I really noticed you. How pretty you are," Sylar teased and Peter splashed him with water. "Very pretty. Long black hair, white skin, drenched in dark red blood. Like a fairy tale prince. I wanted to..."

"What did you want to do?" Peter sounded like he was just waiting to become horrified.

"Well not fuck your dead corpse. Jesus, Peter. No really," he said at Peter's suspicious look.

"I, I wanted for you to be alive again. You looked like a broken doll, laying there and just a minute before you had been standing up to me. Part of me knew you possessed an ability but... I was more focused on how much courage it took for you step in front of me like that. And I was... sorry. Believe it not, back then I might not have killed someone so... so alive. I would have let you live, wanted to at least. And that was the first time in a long time that I had felt that. Regret.

"And then we start sharing dreams. _Lots_ of dreams." Sylar smiled at Peter, then looked off to the side for a moment before saying, "I think that must mean something."

"I think it means something too," Peter agreed quietly. "It's like we were destined to be in each other's lives. One way or another. That's what I was thinking about, how we shoulda grown up together." Peter moved to float on his back.

"We might've grown closer than I did with Nathan," Peter went on, "what with so much less of an age difference. Maybe I woulda had a crush on you instead of..."

Peter trailed off with widened eyes and then quickly added, hoping Sylar wouldn't be suspicious of the pause, "all the idiots that I did."

_Jesus,__what __the __hell__ is __wrong__ with __me __tonight?_ Peter asked himself, wishing he could smack his own head.

"You think you would have had a crush on me?" Sylar asked, only partly listening. He was busy admiring the way the moonlight made the water on Peter's naked body glisten. "Peter, I wore glasses."

"So?" Peter turned over and swam closer.

"So I was a geek. A big awkward geek with glasses. Trust me, you would not have had a crush on me. More likely, it would have been the other way around, and then I would have been completely mortified and hung myself anyway."

"Wow, and I thought I was supposed to be the dramatic one."

"You are, now shut up and come here. I want you to fuck me." Sylar reached to pull Peter over to him.

"Really?"

"What you thought I never would?"

"I just..."

"You don't want to?"

Peter put his hand over Sylar's mouth and straddled him. "I didn't say that. Any of that. I was just surprised. And now I'm not anymore, and may I say, already up for your idea." Peter kissed him and reached under the water to stoke Sylar's cock. It too was already up.

He was going to fuck Sylar. Oh yes, Peter was definitely getting excited by the idea. He wanted to... oh, he wanted to fuck him so hard. He wanted to make him come with his dick for a change.

"Here, sit up on the bank." Peter impatiently adjusted them until Sylar was sitting on the edge of the pool with his knees bent and feet on the ground. Peter stood between his legs, on the ledge they had been sitting on.

"Can't we go back to the bed?" Sylar asked.

"No, I want to fuck you right here." Peter ran his hands all over Sylar's body, his long legs, flat belly, muscular chest... everything was strong and lean and covered in soft dark hair. Peter thought he was gorgeous. He leaned forward to take Sylar's erection in his mouth, sucking and licking at it like a popsicle.

"Ooooh," Sylar fell back farther on his arms. He groaned louder as Peter's slick fingers began preparing him at a quick pace. He didn't protest the rough treatment. Peter was in a hurry to fuck him. It was still unbelievable and Sylar was not going to complain.

"Do you think you're ready? Please say that you're ready." Peter's husky voice betrayed his eagerness. He smoothed some lube onto his own erection and moved into position, stumbling a little in his haste.

"Wait, let me turn over," Sylar said.

No." Peter stopped him and pushed him back down. "I want to see you. Gabriel, please. Let me see your gorgeous face while I fuck you. Let me see what I do to you." He rubbed the head of his cock against Gabriel's slick crack, teasing the entrance, teasing himself.

Peter slowly pressed into the softened opening, groaning as he was tightly encased. He gripped Gabriel's leg harder, trying to stay in control of himself.

Sylar moaned and dug his fingers into the dirt as Peter filled him up. It was still overwhelming and terrifying. For a second he feared that Peter would never fit, it seemed impossible, everything was too tight, too much, but then something inside him gave way just a bit and suddenly it was like his entire body was being filled as well. His entire soul.

But it didn't matter anyway, if Peter was too much, if it hurt more in this dream than it had in reality, because it was Peter. Peter, Sylar was letting inside his body. Peter... could do whatever he wanted. As long as kept touching him... kept looking at him.

He felt Peter take one of his clenched fists and kiss it, before intertwining their fingers and laying their joined hands back down on the ground.

"Relax, baby. Let me take you there." Peter leaned over to lick along Gabriel's stomach and up to his nipples. He worried at one with his teeth until Gabriel was moving with him and had raised his other hand to clench in Peter's hair. Peter raised his head to look at his lover. His skin was as flushed as Peter had ever seen it, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. He was so sexy like this. So his.

"Open your eyes. Babe... please don't hide from me," Peter whispered, nuzzling his head into Gabriel's hand.

Sylar opened his eyes and slowly fixed on Peter. The younger man had that look, like he was trying to see into his soul. It made him feel brave that he could return that dark gaze and he wondered what Peter saw in his own eyes.

Peter was moving in and out of him steadily now. On every downstroke he gave an extra nudge that was progressively turning Sylar's insides into something hot and liquid-y. He smoothed Peter's sweaty hair back from his face. He was so beautiful.

"How does it feel?" Peter asked softly, still looking deeply into the other man's eyes. "Do you like it?"

"God... yes, Peter. It's good... so good I can barely stand it," Sylar whispered back.

Peter's smile lit up his face. "Come here and kiss me. I can't reach you."

After a brief wet kiss, Sylar pulled back and moaned in frustration, "Peter, I want..."

"Tell me. Gabriel. Tell me what you want."

"I want... oh, I want... I want you to fuck me harder," he finally moaned, sounding more like his usual gruff self instead of the softer, almost shy man he was when Peter was inside him.

Peter groaned, his body hastening to respond to the request without his conscious control.

"Yes, oh god, yes. Peter, fuck. Fuck me." Gabriel couldn't seem to shut up now that he had gotten started. He had lain back down and his hips were slithering around like a belly dancer's. It was making it very hard for Peter to stay focused. He let go of Gabriel's hand and started stroking his erection.

"Come on Gabriel. Come for me," Peter urged.

Peter was going to blow any minute. Gabriel's wanton display was doing him in. The constant stream of praise and passion was shredding his composure. Peter's thrusts became even harder, sloppy, in his excitement. His hips were churning the water and splashing it up onto the bank and onto them. The sound competed with the increasingly loud moans coming from both men. A few more strokes and Gabriel was clenching around him, crying out as he pumped come over Peter's fist and Peter was joining him, finally letting go inside of him.

* * *

><p>"Did you always know you liked guys?" Sylar asked quietly, admiring the starry display overhead. They were sitting in the lakepool/jacuzzi again. They had just "showered" together under the waterfall, having both been covered in mud and come. That had been... different. Nice. Something to be repeated in real life, Sylar had decided.

"No way. I was going steady with girls by the fifth grade," Peter said. "I matured early," he added at Sylar's look. "But around fourteen - fifteen I started noticing the guys on the soccer team too. And the track team. And the baseball team." Peter added with a faraway grin.

"You were a jock."

"I would never call myself a jock. I like playing sports, and I always lettered, but I was never really that great at any one thing. I never dreamed of playing anything pro. I just like being on a team." Peter shrugged.

"Going back to you and guys..."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm going to be the only one sharing tonight?"

"Because you're smarter than you look?" Sylar closed his eyes in the face of the expected slash of water. Honestly, Peter was like a puppet sometimes.

"Do you want me to tell this story or not?" Peter asked.

"Yes, I do. Please?"

"Okay, so I had a steady girlfriend for most of high school. And our junior year she talked me into doing show choir. Don't," Peter gave a warning shake of his head, "don't say anything. That's where I met my first out of the closet gay guys. And they made it pretty clear they thought I was playing on the wrong team. But it wasn't until I got to college that I started, you know 'experimenting'. Man, New York in the nineties. It was so much fun back then. The Limelight was still open, CBGB's..."

Peter went on to give Sylar an abbreviated version of his wild days, leaving out some of the more slutty details, but leaving in the drugs, the club scene, and his "semester break" from NYU. To be young, rich, pretty, naive, and pissed off at a dad who personified the establishment had been a dangerous combination.

Peter grew progressively serious as he spoke. The details of those days coming back to him like they hadn't in years. He had tried so hard to put that life behind him, to pretend that it had never happened at all. Sometimes, he forgot that it had.

Suddenly, the scenery around them rippled and the two men found themselves standing, dry and fully dressed, in what appeared to be a hospital. The emergency room, judging by the amount of sheer chaos. Several areas on either side of where Sylar and Peter stood together were separated by curtains, and people in scrubs and white coats were hurrying by them as though they didn't exist.

In one of the partitioned areas, Peter - another, younger Peter, was laying on a bed, being worked on by a couple of nurses.

"Mr. Petrelli, can you hear me?" the nurse leaning over the bed was saying. "If you don't respond we will need to put a tube down your throat. Do you understand? Please, young man can you hear me?" She slapped him lightly on the cheek when he didn't respond.

"Do you know what he took?" The other nurse asked a young man wearing a fishnet shirt and leather pants who looked like he had been crying.

"Peter, what is going on here?" Sylar asked in a hushed voice.

"Stand clear, he's crashing!" The nurse nearest the bed hit a button on the wall. Soon, another nurse wheeling a large cart and a doctor were rushing by them and over to the other Peter.

"They were..." Peter had to clear his throat before continuing. "They were trying to give me something to make me vomit, but my heart stopped. I... I died. Uh, that was the first time I died."

"Did you drink too much?"

Peter smiled bitterly. "When didn't I? I'm OD'ing, Sylar. Ecstasy. Alcohol. Coke. Basically whatever was in front of me."

They watched as Peter was resuscitated. It seemed to take too long for Sylar. Even though he knew the outcome, it was still an uncomfortable scene to watch. Peter's shirt had been cut open and the doctor was using paddles to administer apparently increasing amounts of voltage. Every time the doctor yelled "Clear!" it grated on Sylar's nerves.

He was about to suggest that they leave when Peter spoke up again.

"This was it," he said in a hushed voice.

"What it," Sylar whispered when he didn't elaborate.

"This was the moment that changed my life. I can't believe I forgot this. It literally changed my life, in a way realizing my ability didn't."

"You mean you had... a near death experience?" Sylar sounded intrigued.

Peter looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. His family had not been keen on the idea, to say the least. Never mind how he had gotten in this position. God, the therapy he'd had to go through to get them to leave him alone again. He'd been so glad that he had decided to change majors by then.

"I don't know what happened, exactly. I didn't see any dead relatives or anything like that, that I remember. But... something happened. Something that changed me. Made me want to change my life. Made me want to stop partying all the time and go back to school. Made me want to really _do_ something about the world, make a real difference in people's lives, get my hands dirty."

They watched as the nurses started feeding a tube down Peter's throat.

"So you switched from psychology to nursing, to get your hands dirty?"

"So to speak," Peter smirked. "But _this_ is why I went into hospice care especially. Why I wanted to work with the dying. Because I had died, and I knew... that there wasn't anything to be scared of. That there really was something more, something else, watching us, guiding us. How could I have forgotten this?"

"In all fairness, you have been a little busy the last few years."

"Yeah, most people only get the one 'near death experience'. For me, it's become a way of life."

"Don't remind me."

Peter didn't bother to point out the irony that he had been the cause of many of those deaths.

_(Haven't I killed you already?) _

_(It didn't take.)_

"What's so funny?" Sylar asked as Peter quietly chuckled to himself.

"Nothing, just... you and me," Peter said, rubbing Sylar's arm and leaning up.

As they kissed, the scenery rippled again, settling on the desert at daybreak. Coyote Sands looked just as it should. Like decay and new life both.

It was still night behind them, the sky a dark blue scattered with fading stars. But on the horizon ahead, light from the still mostly hidden sun had already reached the clouds in the sky, causing the most dramatic effect. Each cloud was neatly divided in half, white on one side and black on the other. In an ever-expanding circle the sun was literally banishing the darkness in its wake.

Peter turned to watch the night die behind them, thinking about how far they'd come in such a short time. Not only was another day dawning, but another new life as well.

Sylar reached over and took Peter's hand, pulling it up to kiss his wrist.

"You ready to go back and be a hero, leader of our own private army?" he asked.

"If you are," Peter said in return, kissing the back of the hand holding his and sighing. "By the way, what is with the hair?"

"It's just something I felt like trying. Why, you don't like it?" Sylar ran his free hand though the loose flowing strands that fell a few inches above his shoulder.

"Please, tell me that you're joking."

"Too Guido?"

Peter glanced from the gold necklace that Sylar would presumably be wearing someday in the future to the dark chest hair peaking out of the top of the open collared shirt, and knowing that a black wife beater lay underneath made him smile up at his companion.

"Maybe just a tad," Peter concluded.


End file.
